“It doesn’t matter so much now,” Jimmy replied. “If all goes well, we should be away at sea by daybreak to-morrow.”
While they stowed the breakers the wind dropped, and Jimmy, watching the sails shake slackly, made a gesture of fierce impatience.
“The luck is dead against us! It looks as if we should never get at that gold! There’s a two-knot stream on her bow, and she’ll drift to leeward fast.”
“Then we’ll tow her!” Moran said stubbornly. “Get into the dory; you haven’t carried those breakers, and I’m not used up yet.”
Though Jimmy had rested since the previous evening, he found the work hard. He had suffered from his exertions under water during the past week, and the tide ran against them, and the long heave threw a heavy strain upon the line as the sloop lifted. The smaller craft was often jerked back almost under her bowsprit, and it needed laborious rowing to straighten out the sinking line. Still, they made progress, and at last dropped anchor beside the wreck early in the afternoon.
“Now,” said Moran, “I guess we’ll go down unless you want your dinner before you start. We haven’t had breakfast yet.”
Bethune laughed and looked at Jimmy.
“Could you eat anything?” he asked.
“Not a bite! I don’t expect ever to feel hungry until we get those boxes up. Lash the ladder while I couple the pipe to the pump!”
Bethune was the first to go down. When he came back after an unusually long stay, he reported that he had been unable to extricate the nearest box, though he had cleared the sand from it before he was forced to ascend. Jimmy took his place, and worked savagely, dragging out the box and moving it toward the bulkhead, but in the confined space, which was further narrowed by some broken timbers, he could not lift it through the opening. While he tried, with every muscle strained, a piece of timber shifted in the sand beneath his feet; and Jimmy lost his balance and fell forward, putting out his lamp.